De cand e rau sa fi antisocial?

De fiecare data cand vedeam pe cineva care nu se integra in multime nu credeam ca-i infimurat sau fitos, mi se parea misterios. Ma gandeam ca e el cu gandurile lui, ca inventeaza ceva sau creeaza urmatoarea mare capodopera literara.

Nu stiu cand dar si eu m-am transformat in persoana aia.

Vreau sa spun ca n-am fost niciodata cel mai sociabil personaj in viata. Urasc oamenii in general si nu-mi place sa-ajung sa-i cunosc. Am un grup de prieteni extrem de veseli cu care nu ma deranjeaza sa ies la bauta, sa urlu sau sa vorbesc despre lucruri deochiade dupa care sa rad cu gura pana la urechi.

Imi place sa beau in moderatie si-mi place cine sunt dupa doua beri si totusi nu-s sociabila.

Ma duc la o petrecere, daca toti cei d-acolo imi sunt cunoscuti, sunt sufletul petrecerii, daca exista cineva necunoscut il integrez numai decat si in doua ore avem stabilita o intalnire pentru a doua zi de-a merge la un film pe care amandoi voiam sa-l vedem de mult sau cine stie ce alta bazaconie dar daca-s mai multi de 2 oameni pe care nu-i cunosc, sunt cel mai nefericit personaj din peisaj. Nu stiu cu cine si ce sa vorbesc, prefer sa-mi beau cele doua beri si sa ma carabanesc.

Si totusi de cand e rau sa fi antisocial? De cand e aiurea sa stai intr-un colt si sa contemplezi la nemurirea sufletului cand altii urla si-si pun alcool in cap?

Poate ma maturizez, ceea ce este trist in adevaratul sens al cuvantului, sau poate pur si simplu prietenii prietenilor mei nu-s pe gustul meu, cert e ca am avut parte de-o petrecere de rahat din perspectiva mea.

I'm Jack's complete lack of excitement regarding people

I'm a Placebo junkie

Ok, ok stiu ca suna ieftin si neinspirat dar voiam sa mai spun o data c-am fost la concert Placebo.

....in sfarsit....

Dependenta de Placebo sunt de prin clasa a noua, probabil fara sa-mi dau seama.
Anul ala a fost anul descoperirilor mele in materie de muzica noua, cu ghilimelele de rigoare. Pana atunci ascultam cam ce ascuta tata prin anii '70.
La 15 ani am deraiat putin de la "muzica desteapta" cum ii place tatalui meu s-o denumeasca si-am inceput sa ma dau un pic cu capul de pereti. Din pacate s-au numarat si niste greseli muzicale grave in deraierea asta a mea. Nu vad rostul in a mentiona ce-am ascultat, decat pentru a va face pe voi sa radeti in hohote (Avril Lavigne) dar din fericire, minunatul loc numit "skate" i-am descoperit si pe baietii de aseara.
Urlau de la radio in niste difuzoare pe jumatate defecte care haraiau si harsaiau la fiecare adiere de vant si printre toate interferentele alea auzeam eu o melodie cantata pe nas, o voce complet diferita de ce auzisem pana atunci si-mi placea.
Imi placea pentru ca era melodioasa, imi placea pt ca auzeam acroduri de vioara acolo unde n-aveau nicio treaba a fi, un ritm alert de tobe si-o chitara electrica schingiuita cu stil.
Astia erau baietii de la Placebo sau asa mi-a zis un tip pe care, cu chiu cu vai am indraznit sa-l intreb.
Am inceput prin a da televizorul la maxim cand prindeam "The bitter end" la MTV. Mi-aduc aminte ca eram complet fascinata de antena aia uriasa pe care e filmat tot videoclipul. Vecininii incepusera sa ma urasca, evident.
Aseara am ajuns si la concert. Am trecut peste faptul ca am asteptat doua ore jumate sa inceapa per se, am trecut si peste cozile interminabile de la corturile cu bautura din cauza carora am ratat finalul baietilor de la Grimus.
Dar sa-ncepem cu inceputul. Grimus, pe Grimus i-am vazut prima data in primavara intr-un concert oarecum restrans de la MTR si i-am placut instat. Solistul are o voce de invidiat si-o energie cum rar am mai vazut (in afara de Chirila la Folk You). El ca si personaj imi aminteste putin de tipul de la Bere Gratis, fara fitele si figurile de rigoare.
Baietii astia, care se vede pe fata lor ca inca mai fac muzica din placere au niste melodii foarte placute, versuri usor de retinut si fara nonsesuri sau cliche-uri idioate. Erau extrem de emotionati din moment ce cantau prima data pe o scena atat de mare, un public atata de numeros si-n deschiderea unei trupe ca Placebo.
Ca un ceas elvetian baietii si fata de la Placebo au urcat pe scena la 10 fix. Au cantat fix cate melodii aveau de cantat si fix patru bis-uri, Brian ne-a vorbit putin in stilul lui specifiv folosind cuvantul fuck drept semn de punctuatie. Au spus frumos la revedere si s-au tirat, foarte profesionist si foarte reci cu publicul dar nu sunt dezamagita, m-am trezit de dimineata si inca ma intrebam daca a fost doar un vis frumos.
Vorba unei prietene, acum pot sa mor linistita (dar nu pana nu vad The Dark Knight).
N-am inteles de ce au programat astia de la noi concertul intr-o luni. M-a deranjat si-am vrut s-o mentionez.

Things that cloud my judgement

I wish i'd had a reason to buy a gun ...i'm curious on how the shop gives it to you ....just like that ...here, take some bullets too, put them in your pocket, or does it come with a box, a bag? a case ? a suitcase with a fake bottom? a book that has the pages cropped out in the shape of a gun? does it come with spare bullets or just one like mechanical pencils? do they give you a holster or you have to carry it in your underpants like cheap gangstas? do they give you a belt or straps for the holster or you have to put it on your own belt? why if your belt doesn't match with the color of the holster do they give you two colors like in TOP SHOP, one dark and one light for any occasion? :))) I WANNA KNOOOOW

What are the neighbors going to think?

Marry; she’s just a spoiled little girl. The only one that her parents have actually, of course she’s spoiled.

Daddy, he bought her a car, Japanese. Gives her money every week.

If you look at the big picture Marry has the perfect little life. Both parents alive and healthy and still together, she doesn’t work but still has the means to put gas and go out with friends.

Fucking Marry and her perfect fucking life. Behind the curtain it’s a total different story, of course. Her parents aren’t speaking to each other, her mom keeps bringing up how trapped she feels in this city and how much she’d like to move to the country.

“Then move to the fucking country mom, and stop nagging me!” That’s what Marry said once, she screamed it really. Her mom never said what Marry would’ve expected her to say. Her mom never said “Your father would never move to the country.” She just nodded and muttered “Maybe I will.”

Fucking Marry and her perfect fucking life. Behind the curtain her mother screams at her every day to get a job and on the other side her father whispers shit about mom. “Crazy old broad.”, “ Every woman in that family is insane.” ,“ Her mum is just as bonkers as she is and the worst part is that she’ll live to be 100 years old just like her grandmother.”, “Let her speak, nod and do whatever the hell you want, she’s just a crazy old bitch.” And the worst of them by far “Every woman will end up just as crazy as your mother.” Righty-o daddy-o, I can only assume that you forgot your child is a woman, or else you wouldn’t talk like that, or would you?

Fucking Marry and her perfect fucking life. Behind the curtain she’s just a scared little girl, a spoiled brat and lazy as fuck, little girl. She diagnosed herself with ADD (attention deficit disorder) so she wouldn’t have to admit that she’s just too lazy to accomplish anything, she’s just to comfortable in her big leather chair to get her fat ass up and do something, anything.

Fucking Marry and her perfect fucking life. Fucking Marry can have an actual perfect fucking life, she’s multi talented: she can draw, she can write, she’s good at sports, dancing, for all Marry knows she can stand on her head, joggle with her feet and sing Amazing Grace to a group of orphans while writing the new modern novel, but she’ll never try because she’s too comfortable where she is now.

Fucking Marry and her perfect fucking life. When things get rough she’s thinking of checking out. When that guy, that cretin, didn’t like her back she put in her mouth a fist full of drugs that she round up from her mother’s cabinet, mainly pain killers. Of course she spat them back out, she’s so far gone into this commodity business that not even dyeing doesn’t deserve much effort. I mean if you don’t just drop dead after thinking that, it doesn’t worth killing yourself over it. That was a joke, Marry’s good with jokes, she can mock anyone for as long as needed, she has that tiny bit of narcissism that allows her to do so and she got that from her dad. He thinks he’s better than anyone as well and it drives Marry crazy.

“YES DAD, YOU DID TELL ME ABOUT THE FRENCH REVOLUTION A HUNDRED TIMES BEFORE, AND ALSO THE FACT THAT YOUr FRIEND HAD NO IDEA WHO NAPOLEON WAS! JESUS CHRIST, AND YOU SAY MOM’S INSANE!” Marry wants to scream that every time her dad brings something like that up, but she doesn’t. Either because she respects him too much or because she’s afraid he’ll cut her founding off.

Fucking Marry and her perfect fucking life. Things got rough one day, again, and she decided to slit her wrist. Yeah, you read correctly, wrist. She placed the blade on her skin, pushed in and dragged it to the side, fast, no pain. Marry could see the cut, it’s length and depth, the two parts of the skin, the same color as on the surface and a moment later she could see every blood vessel the size of a hair starting to weep red and fill the cut, the blood gushed to the surface and slid on the side of Marry’s arm onto the desk.

“Shit, I’m bleeding all over and this mother fucker hurts as fuck, SHIT, SHIT. I need something to cover it up with, stop the bleeding FUCK, HOLLY FUCK I DON’T WANNA DIE!” That is what was going thru Marry’s head not seconds after she did the deed. She patched herself up with some strap from a robe that was lying around her room and went to bed. The rush of that two inches long cut stayed with her for a couple of days and she felt actually happy.

Tell you what Marry? Next time, eat some Goddamn chocolate if you want to feel happy, eat a pill of Ecstasy if you want to feel happy or just drink yourself under the table but don’t slice your veins open, it’s just unattractive.

Fucking Marry and her perfect fucking life. Not days after this little outburst Marry’s application for a job she really wanted has been denied and she cracked, like she does, frequently over this subject. She curled up in a ball and cried her eyes out, punched a door until her knuckles bled and her mom came home.

Fucking Marry and her perfect fucking life. Her mom started jelling at her for not taking a worthless piece of shit job she had offered to Marry four years ago, than saw the cut on Marry’s wrist and said:

“You look like a prison whore! What are the neighbors going to think?”

Movie Quote of the week

"All right, fine! You don't want to work, fine! You want to be in a band,then be in a goddamn band! Rehearse every day!Play every night! Play three times a night! Don't just dick around the same coffeehouse for five years!Don't dick around with her or with me. I mean, try at something, for once in your life! Do something about it, but you know what? You better do it now, and you better do it fast because the world doesn't owe you any favors and whether you know it or not you're on the inside track to Loserville, U.S.A..." -Lelaina Pierce Reality Bites